


You're My Angel

by King of Hell (winchesterswag)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchesterswag/pseuds/King%20of%20Hell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick one shot based on this prompt "Destiel fic (you can go how risque you want or how tame you want, it’s cool) where Cas has a lot of tattoos post-Fall, and Dean really likes them/appreciates them"</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Angel

After he fell, after Metatron took his grace, after he was human, Cas started getting tattoos. At first they were just for protection; the warding spell above his hip, the anti-possession symbol between his shoulder blades, they were to keep him safe - and alive. Cas liked them, he liked getting them, he liked the way they looked and the way they felt. He loved the way it felt when Dean would run his hands over them, mapping out Cas’ skin, tasting and breathing it all in.

The first two were for protection. The next ones were all for himself; wings across his back, song lyrics on his wrist, the infinity symbol, a compass, and a cross all found their way into his skin. The wings made him feel worth something, made him feel like he was, in some way, important. It’s too cold outside for angels to fly reminded him - every day, that he was human, that he’d never fly again. He has infinity - but infinity isn’t that long - infinity is only one lifetime to a human. Cas knows he’s fucked up - he let the leviathans out, he got tricked into kicking all of his brothers and sisters out of heaven. The compass that is now on his ankle will forever be pointing him in the right direction. The cross was on his chest, as if it was a necklace - but permanent, was to remind him of home. He’d look at them, and sometimes he’d smile, but more often than not he’d cry. Castiel, angel of the lord, would shake and cry and wish that he could take it all back, wishhe had his grace, wish it was all okay. That’s when Dean would hold him.

Dean knew that Cas was overwhelmed with human emotion, Dean knew that Cas had his regrets. Dean knew that he was never the best with words, he wasn’t one to say “I love you,” he blames John for that. Dean showed it instead. He showed it when he held Cas tight and let him cry in his arms. He showed it when he kissed every inch of Cas’s skin, when he traced all the tattoos with the tip of a finger. He showed Castiel how much he cared, how much he loved him with the look in his eyes. The need, the want, the desire, all the emotion blended into a color that was so incredibly green it could cut through you. Dean showed it every time they stripped each other out of their clothes, every time their lips touched, every time Dean trusted into Cas, every time they came. 

Cas was never great with words, his “people skills” are “rusty,” so like Dean he showed it. In his touch, in his eyes, in the noises he made as his was pinned under Dean. He showed it in everything, with everything he had.

Dean ripped Cas’ shirt off with so much urgency, that when he froze a second later, Cas was caught off guard.  
“What?”

“That’s new,” Dean pointed to a tattoo that sat above Cas’ heart. “What’s it say?” Dean could tell it was Enochian - but he can’t read it.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“It says Dean. In Enochian.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile his jesus-cas-I-love-you smile as he proceeded to run his fingers over the letters, tracing them one by one.

He placed kissed on Cas’ wrist where the infinity symbol and song lyrics were. he flipped Cas over and kissed his wings, and made his way down his back, down his thighs, to the compass on his ankle and kissed that too. He kissed his way back up to Cas’ neck, and sucked leaving his mark.

“You. Are. Beautiful.” Dean whispered into Cas’ ear kissing him between each word. 

“I’m no angel, Dean.” Cas quietly stated, trying to hide the pain in his voice

“You’re my angel.” Dean corrected him as he flipped Cas onto his back and pressed their lips together and Cas’ scent, his taste, his voice, his everything was all Dean ever needed.


End file.
